


joke's on you, loser

by zxrysky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little, Accidental Confession, Cleaning the Lions, Confessions, Crushes, Friendship, Hunk-Pidge-Lance Friendship, M/M, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), they're the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, here’s the thing. Lance is crushing on Allura with her pretty eyes, dark skin, sweet smile and the way she can kill you if she wants to because Allura is scary and dangerous, which is hot.</p><p>But Keith is scary and dangerous as well, with pale skin and a challenging smirk on his face and he’s much more willing to hold his knife to Lance’s neck and make his blood run hot, which makes Lance crush really fucking hard on Keith. It’s a horrifying thought that he’d ever choose Keith over Allura, but the day has come, it’s probably Doomsday or something, and Lance is horribly attracted to Keith and his stupid hair and his infuriating smile. And those muscles, goddamn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	joke's on you, loser

It's not hard, Lance thinks, looking at Keith throw his head back and laugh, lets his eyes trace that long column of neck and the sparkle in his eyes and oh yeah, oh boy, it's not hard at all to fall in love in Keith.

 

Keith's long and pretty, purple gray eyes and long fingers and he's so pretty, _so_ pretty that he can't take his eyes off the boy, can't stop himself from staring and every time he stares he think he's falling a little bit further in love.

 

Maybe Keith's magic, he sulks, lips curling down and hunching over on himself, arms curled around his abdomen and he leans back against Hunk, a large solid presence against his back. Keith has to be, because there's no way Lance is attracted to that, no matter how pretty he is, no matter how delicious Keith looks when he's smiling and happy.

 

"I'm a liar," Lance says mournfully, murmuring the words under his breath, and Hunk snorts, turning to look down at him.

 

"Why are you a liar?" Hunk asks, hands reaching around in the bowl, picking up a fistful of popcorn. "You're nice. You don't lie. _Much_."

 

"Gee, thanks Hunk, you're the best," Lance shoots back,  burrowing further under Hunk's arm and reaching for the popcorn. He wants to chew something, distract himself from Keith tinkering with his sword a distance away. "I'm lying to myself, and it's a terrible lie, and I'm so fully aware I'm lying to myself, _Jesus_ -"

 

"Are you having another crisis about Keith?" Hunk says, before throwing the handful of popcorn in his mouth so he doesn't have to reply when Lance straightens like someone ran a bolt of electricity down his spine. Lance attempts to glare at Hunk but nope, it's useless, Hunk is the bestest guy ever and with his cheeks puffed out, slowly chewing his popcorn, Lance can't stay mad at him.

 

He flops back, eyes closed, and groans loudly. Hunk nudges him, shushing him to listen to the movie blaring on the big screen that Coran has helpfully set up. It's another one of those alien movies, full of action and some whirlwind romance that supposedly makes all females keel over with emotions. Even Allura tears up a bit at some parts - which Lance can't understand, and neither can Hunk, which says a lot because Hunk understands lots of things, Alien movies have romances that are _very_ different from the romcoms on Earth, and they're just, well, different.

 

The one they're seeing now isn't a Galran one thankfully, because Lance saw a Galra action flick once and he'd thank God if he didn't have to watch it again. There was a lot of blood. Probably fake blood, but boy, there was enough to make Keith queasy. And Keith laughs at Lance when he starts being squeamish around horror flicks and there's a bit of gore, so Keith getting uneasy means the movie was crazy.

 

Coran, brave man, just laughed and watched, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. He likes the salty type, the kind that would give Lance high blood pressure if he ate too much. Allura was with Shiro, who wasn't down to watch the film. Understandable, really, Lance wouldn't be down to watch something like that if he'd been captured by them either.

 

"There is _no_ crisis over Keith," Lance insists, pressing lightly against Hunk. "Nope, zilch, nada. I'm a free man with lots on his mind. That's it."

 

"You complained to me for three hours about how pretty Keith was," Hunk points out, eyes gleaming. "I had to try _really_ hard not to tell him, y'know?"

 

Lance pats Hunk, throwing his legs over Hunk's lap. "I didn't complain about how pretty Keith was, definitely not, because Keith is not pretty, he's just, I don't know, okay-ish."

 

"That's fine." Hunk shrugs and offers the popcorn bowl to Lance. He waits - sneaky child - until Lance has a mouthful of popcorn before casually saying, "Then you wouldn't mind if I told him, yeah?"

 

Lance chokes, pounding on his chest, eyes watering and he looks up at Hunk, so betrayed, stabbed in the back by the one guy he trusted most, he can't trust anyone anymore, oh man, it's exactly like Julius and Brutus, this thing. Just stabbing him.

 

"You okay?" There's a warm hand on his back, lightly patting him, and Lance tries not to choke even more because he can tell there's a _gloved_ hand on his back, and only two people on the team wear gloves, and one of them has both hands in Lance's sight.

 

He tilts his head up warily, and he sees Keith with his eyebrows raised, fingers clenching around nothing like he isn't quite sure what to do with his other hand, and Lance feels a pang in his chest.

 

"I'm fine, I'm- cough, fine, Hunk just punked me-" He glares at Hunk, who shrugs and lifts both hands, very _what-can-you-do_ and Lance pushes him, grinning. "I'm good. You wanna watch this with us?"

 

There's a convenient blast on the screen, loud screams and the hero swoops into the battlefield on a hovercraft to fight; Keith looks at it for a while, and settles down next to Lance. "Yeah, sure," he says, reaching across Lance's lap to get some popcorn. They love sweet popcorn, all five of them, so it's always in ample supply.

 

Lance stiffens, pressing back against the couch - so far back he could become one with it, with the way he's sinking in, because with the amount of squirming he's done on the couch when he was thinking about Keith, his shirt's racked up against his abdomen and Keith isn't wearing his jacket, so his very exposed forearm brushes against Lance's stomach and yeah, Lance's making a weird sound that's coming from the base of his abdomen.

 

Keith shoots him a look, brows raised even higher than before and tilting his head. "Are you okay?"

 

"Yes!" Lance yells, voice cracking. "I'm fine! Totally fine! Lance has never been better!" He shouts desperately, fingers tapping out the code for S.O.S. on Hunk's arm.

 

"Hey, I think I should start on making dinner," Hunk says, smiling a closed eye smile that makes Lance shudder. He grips Lance's arm, placing it back on the couch and gets up, brushing the popcorn kernels off his lap. "You two just stay here and watch it, so you can tell me afterwards, okay?"

 

"Sure," Keith replies, eyes on the screen, arm still flung over Lance's abdomen and groping around for the popcorn bowl. Hunk sneakily places the bowl in Lance's lap, and yeah, Lance is flushing bright red, eyes wide and staring pointedly at Hunk and most _definitely_ not at the way Keith's hand is in his lap, albeit with the bowl in between.

 

Hunk grins at him, bright and happy and he's the best wingman ever, Lance's got to admit that, but Lance isn't prepared, not _prepared at all_ and his fingers are fluttering against the couch, scrabbling against soft fabric to find purchase against nothing.

 

"Uh, you come here often?" Lance stammers out, face red and eyes darting from Keith's face to the wall, from Keith's face to the wall, lingering on the curve of his lips and paleness of his neck, the stickiness lingering at the side of his lips and yeah okay, time to look at the wall again.

 

Keith makes a confused noise and drags his eyes away from the screen, looking at Lance. "Lance, we live here, in the castle. I come here pretty often?"

 

Okay, see, Lance is _not ready_ , he's not prepared, his frankly astounding repertoire of pick-up lines are leaving him in the dust, his brain isn't working well and yup, he'll just stop for a bit. He'll just shut up for a bit. Keep his eyes on the screen.

 

"Stupid question, sorry," Lance says, staring at the screen, watching the hero blow up a ship. He's praying that the flush doesn't show up too clearly on his dark skin. "Uh, have you watched this before?"

 

"Not yet," Keith says, reaching for more popcorn.

 

He inches closer to Lance, and Lance tries to find control over his breathing because there's no way that was on purpose, Keith just wants to get closer to the popcorn bowl, which Lance can respect. Food is always of the highest priority.

 

He takes a deep breath and leans back against the couch, trying to relax, and very carefully does not stiffen when Keith's shoulder bumps against his, pressing arm to arm against each other as they watch the movie.

 

-=-

 

They need to wash the lions. _Clean_ the lions, quoting Coran. They're kinda dirty, with the amount of dried blood they've left inside, the dirt they've tracked in, etcetera, and Lance recalls how Hunk puked in Blue the first time they took her for a ride. Inside is as dirty as outside, but they’re cleaning from outside in so right now, they’re going to clean their lions’ armour.

 

Yeah, he needs to clean his girl. She's going to become _sparkling_ , and way before Red will, because Lance is faster than Keith, no shit.

 

He turns, all ready to snark at Keith and challenge him to a fight, when his jaw drops and eyes blow wide because god damn, god _damn_ , Keith is taking his shirt off and Lance is pink, definitely.

 

"Why is he taking his shirt off?!" He hisses to Hunk, who raises an eyebrow at Keith and shrugs. "He doesn't need to take his shirt off! It's just cleaning our lions!"

 

"It'll probably get kinda hot," Hunk points out. "Sweaty and hot, so not wearing a shirt may be cooler."

 

"Isn't Pidge lowering the temperature? It's cool enough!" Lance feels hysterical, wringing at his shirt and he worries at his lips, biting down and looking harried.

 

"Is this another crisis?" Hunk asks, brows furrowing. He braces his hands against Lance's shoulders, shaking him, and Lance keens, peering over Hunk's shoulder to see Keith tie his hair up.

 

"He's _tying his hair up_ ," Lance seethes, blood roaring in his ears. "He's so good looking, _why_ , my god, Hunk, I'm not sure if I'll make it."

 

Hunk pats him smartly on the back, once, twice, hard and heavy, and it shocks Lance a little, shocks him back into sanity.

 

"You'll live," Hunk says, eyes kind. "And you should probably get back to cleaning Blue before Keith beats you."

 

Lance whines, swallowing tightly, and turns away, striding back to his lion with all the passion of a hundred fireballs. Keith looks so good it makes his blood burn.

 

He starts scrubbing, eyes occasionally darting over to land on Keith, and tries not to cry when Keith bends over to reach for the bucket, digging his fingers into the hooks of Red's outer armour and slinging up, climbing to the top. His back muscles are corded tightly, straining beneath his skin and Lance can feel the saliva pool in his mouth.

 

Oh boy, he needs Hunk to dump a pail of water on top of him to cool him off.

 

He focuses on Blue, scrubbing like he means it and Keith probably has the right idea, climbing up to the top to scrub every corner and so he does the same, slowly scaling Blue and gently scrubbing, frowning at the slightly scratched armour and petting her in concern.

 

Soon enough, it does get too hot; he’s sweaty and tired, lying down on Blue’s slightly cooler - but soapy, so soapy - surface. He strips his shirt off, struggling to get it off his sticky skin and he gets a little stuck on the way, shirt trapped around his head because he’s too sweaty, too sticky and the fabric insistently sticks to his skin.

 

He rips it off eventually, panting with the effort because god, he didn’t understand how a shirt could be so hard to get off. Peering over Blue’s side, he lets it drop, watching as it flutters to the ground, which is pretty far away because Blue is super tall, and looks Blue over. She looks appropriately soaped up, and Lance is pretty sure he’s faster than Keith.

 

He chances a look at Red, sees a sliver of skin and looks away, cheeks red. Keith’s still cleaning, which is good, and it means Lance’s won.

 

“Pidge!” He yells, leaning as far as Blue’s head will allow. “Can you start the sprinklers?”

 

There’s a shout of acknowledgement and the sprinklers in the roof start above Blue, spraying down and washing all the suds off. Lance moans, lying back against Blue and just stays there for a while. It feels like rain pouring on his skin, pattering against his limbs and chest and oh boy, it feels amazing. It feels like he’s back on Earth again, dancing in the rain with his mama and older brothers, wrestling in the mud and screaming when mama dumps bucketfuls of cold rain water down their backs to clean them off.

 

His jeans are soaked through, and maybe wearing denim wasn’t the best idea when deciding to wash a gigantic robot lion but hey, Lance never said he was the King of Good Decisions - that’s usually Hunk, or Pidge. No, Pidge is the King of _Smart_ Decisions, come to think about it. Smart, but not necessarily good. It’s the reason why Lance gets into so much trouble when he tries scheming with Pidge.

 

He watches the suds runoff, collecting in soapy water on the ground, and pats the clean, sparkling surface of Blue. He can hear her purring in his mind, sated and delighted, with a slight reminding nudge about how the _interior_ , cough, isn’t as clean. Lance smiles apologetically, standing up and shakes his head, running his hand through his hair to push back the wet fringe. He’s dripping, wet with water, and his jeans are hanging way too low on his hips. They’re slipping, and Lance peers at them, wondering if Coran’s stretching them in the high-tech laundry machine on board because there’s no way Lance is getting thinner with how much delicious food Hunk’s been making. Ever since they found out how to reverse engineer human food, Hunk has _not stopped cooking_. Which is a godsend.

 

Lance is feeling lazy after cleaning Blue like his life depends on it, so he slowly climbs down and leans against her leg, smirking at Keith who’s waiting for Pidge to start the sprinklers over above Red. He’s red faced, probably because he doesn’t have as much stamina as Lance and tires faster - hah, Lance _knew_ it - and he’s sitting patiently on Red.

 

“I was faster!” Lance calls out, extremely petty, trying to get a rise out of Keith, and Keith rises up to the occasion, bristling slightly.

 

“Red’s _cleaner_ ,” Keith yells down, and the sprinklers start, spraying down and soaking Keith to the bone. And- _jesus_ , Lance takes a moment to clasp his hands behind his back and pray quickly because Keith’s pants were already practically skin tight and now the water is making it stick even further, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Keith slicks his hair back, wet with water, gloves slightly damp and oh boy, oh boy, Lance needs to turn around right now before he embarrasses himself.

 

He turns, sending desperate hand signals to Hunk, who’s humming as he cleans Yellow, entirely oblivious to the intense, very real, very dangerous, very life-threatening crisis Lance is facing.

 

Pidge, having taken the same classes as them, signs back for Lance to _keep your eyes open, all clear, advance_ in response to Lance going _abort mission, enemies, evacuation needed, where’s first aid base_.

 

Lance is going to die, he’s just going to keel over and die, and it’s just his luck that Keith pops up behind him, soaking wet and gorgeous, and Lance chokes on his tongue.

 

“You look really wet,” Keith says, raising an eyebrow, and Lance has lost his brain to mouth filter, his mouth is running on autopilot-

 

“I’m _dripping_ with good looks,” he says, loud and clear, and the words echo in the sudden lull of silence that fills the hangar. Keith blinks, eyes wide, and there’s a quiet giggle from Pidge a while away, and a snort from Shiro who immediately slaps his hand across his mouth.

 

Hunk laughs softly, shooting Lance a discreet thumbs up and Pidge throws some popcorn - where she got it from, Lance has no clue - into Hunk’s mouth. They’re _enjoying_ themselves.

 

Keith puffs his cheeks out, eyes filled with amusement and Lance can tell he’s trying not to laugh, trying _really hard_ not to laugh, which Lance can appreciate, but it’s eventually too much for Keith to hold in or something and he doubles over, arms pressing against his abdomen as he laughs, loud and bright and delighted. Lance is left standing there watching the long pale curve of Keith’s spine against skin, the way the rim of his pants sticks to his hipbones and maybe Pidge needs to turn the sprinklers back on at freezing temperature because Lance needs a cold shower, pronto.

 

There’s a flush high on Keith’s cheeks, probably because he’s been scrubbing at Red like mad, and Lance laughs awkwardly while hurriedly backing away, throwing finger guns at Keith to distract him.

 

“I _am_ good looking!” He yells before he ducks out of the hangar, loud and ringing and the hangar’s filled with unrestrained laughter, with even Shiro pressing his fist against his mouth and laughing, holding his stomach like it hurts.

 

Keith’s eyes are bright, his hair wet and hanging low in his eyes, shirtless and dripping and so fucking gorgeous - Lance braces himself against the wall, pressing his hands against it and slamming his head on the wall.

 

 _Jesus_ , he thinks. _I’m so fucked._

 

There’s a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Hunk, quietly exasperated, and it says, “well, that took you long enough.”

 

Lance presses his forehead against the wall and waits for the heat in his cheeks to die down.

 

-=-

 

Now, here’s the thing. Lance is crushing on Allura with her pretty eyes, dark skin, sweet smile and the way she can kill you if she wants to because Allura is scary and dangerous, which is hot.

 

But Keith is scary and dangerous as well, with pale skin and a challenging smirk on his face and he’s much more willing to hold his knife to Lance’s neck and make his blood run hot, which makes Lance crush _really fucking hard_ on Keith. It’s a horrifying thought that he’d ever choose Keith over Allura, but the day has come, it’s probably Doomsday or something, and Lance is horribly attracted to Keith and his stupid hair and his infuriating smile. And those muscles, goddamn.

 

Despite Lance’s intense, mind-numbing crush on the fine male specimen known as Keith a.k.a. Red Paladin of Voltron, he’s pretty self-aware. He knows where this is going to go. He knows where it’s _not_ going to go. He knows that this isn’t going anywhere, because Keith is- Keith probably isn’t interested in him.

 

For god’s sake, the guy didn’t even remember his name when Lance had been chasing after him for the better half - and during puberty, which probably said something when all his hormones were running high and all Lance could focus on was Keith - of his life, and yeah, it hurts a guy. Bruises his ego. Ruins his confidence.

 

But Lance’s strong - stronger than Keith, hoo - and he can take it. It’s totally fine if Keith looks at him and sees a friend, and it’s perfect if Keith inches closer and leans on his shoulder during movie night, when they’re all crowded on the couch. He knows himself, he knows Keith - probably better than the guy knows himself, god knows Keith is confused over a lot of stuff - and Lance is 99% certain that they will never work out. They’re two sides of a coin, Red and Blue, the dream partner team, but never, ever, boyfriends.

 

The 1% is there for Lance’s peace of mind when Keith laughs with him, throwing his head back and Lance’s eyes linger on the slow long curve of his neck, the way his lips part, the way the sound rings in his ears and settles in his heart - the 1% is there to give Lance hope, and it will probably be what results in a load of disappointment.

 

Lance has known what it’s like to be left in the dust; when you’re a fifth child in a family of thirteen, all your older siblings are better than you. Sometimes, your younger siblings are better than you. It doesn’t matter in what field - academics, sports, doing chores at lightning speed - there is always someone better, always someone Lance is left chasing after, always broken pride and clenched jaw and strung up emotions.

 

And Lance, yeah, he knows how to suck it up and move on. He knows how to bury his hurt deep in his heart and leave it there. He knows how to plaster a smile on his face and laugh, pretending that seeing Keith everyday doesn’t ache.

 

He’s crushing hard - so, so fucking hard, and he knows it’s unrequited.

 

-=-

 

Hunk is literally the best friend a guy can ever have. Lance doesn’t say it enough. Hunk is kind, understanding, warm, and he gives the best hugs ever. And he doesn’t take Lance’s shit. Lance can have as many crisis as he wants and Hunk will be there to talk him through them; Lance can pretend he doesn’t want something, but Hunk knows him better than Lance knows himself, and Hunk always knows.

 

“I always know,” Hunk says, and yeah Lance agrees with that, but there’s no way that what Hunk’s saying is right. No way, José. Does Hunk know Keith better than Keith knows himself? Probably; goodness, Hunk probably knows everyone on this castle better than they know themselves.

 

“You’re probably wrong,” Lance says weakly, trying to fight it, trying to fight logic and Hunk, which is a lost cause. “There’s no way you think Keith wouldn’t mind me telling him.”

 

“ _I always know_ ,” Hunk stresses, and he wraps an arm around Lance. He’s Lance’s emotional and physical rock. Lance just likes to drag it out as long as possible to make himself hurt more. “Keith won’t mind. He really won’t.”

 

“I second that,” Pidge calls out from her corner in Hunk’s room, Rover floating at her head. Lance had dragged Hunk aside and confessed that he was in a crisis - the last time he confessed he was in a crisis, he had stained the commander’s boots with black paint at the garrison, and Hunk had cried from anxiety. Lance had felt so _bad_ , goodness, no one should make Hunk cry, ever. Hunk had stared at him, a smile pulling up at his lips, and leaned over Lance’s shoulder, asking if Pidge wanted to come.

 

Pidge lives for drama, especially Lance’s outrageous drama, so she agreed in a heartbeat. It’s been a while since they’ve been together, the garrison trio, and Lance has no qualms about it being because of his intense crisis.

 

“No way,” Lance says. “Keith is like, attracted to battle and battle alone. Ever heard of battle lust? Yeah, that guy lusts for battle. Only has lust in that form. Only gets it up for battle. He needs to fight to fall in love.”

 

Pidge chokes and laughs, falling over on herself and stays down, laughing until she shakes from the intensity. Hunk’s thrown his blanket on the ground so that Pidge can surround herself in cloth instead of sitting on hard floor while Lance and Hunk laze on the bed, and Pidge curls up in the blanket, shoulders shaking with laughter all the way.

 

Hunk’s laughing too, his chest rumbling with it and Lance, from where he is, draped over Hunk’s chest, is shaking with the vibrations. He sighs, closing his eyes and looking at the ceiling. “I need so much strength to deal with you two.”

 

“You’ve got that wrong,” Pidge shoots back from the mess of blankets. “We need the strengths of gods to deal with you, Lance. But going back to the point, Hunk’s right, and you’re wrong.”

 

“That’s not surprising,” Lance mutters. “But there is no way Keith will not _punch me in the face_ when I tell him that. I will get a black eye. Hunk, do you want me to get a black eye?”

 

“I really don’t think you’ll get a black eye,” Hunk says, amusement in his voice. He sounds so uplifting that Lance has hope.

 

“I don’t know, Keith’s kinda trigger-happy sometimes,” Pidge says thoughtfully. “He may just punch you on instinct because he thinks you’re lying.” And yeah, thank you Pidge, for hurling a boulder at mental Lance’s head - who’s currently flying with the hope from Hunk’s words - giving him some brain damage to bring him back to reality.

 

“I’m going to get punched,” Lance moans, rolling on the bed. He almost falls off the floor, rolling a bit too close to the edge. Hunk’s arm shoots out and drags him back onto the bed, in a safe place in the centre away from the sides. “I’m going to die with a black eye on my face, Hunk, it’ll be huge and it’ll hurt-”

 

“Keith wouldn’t punch you on purpose,” Hunk replies patiently. “At most, it’ll be an accident, and then he’ll just apologise. And you two can talk it out. Do you need me to a mediator? I can be a mediator. We can even rope in Shiro to be a mediator. Third person point of view.”

 

Lance- he doesn’t know. Does he want to tell Keith? Maybe, yeah, get it off his chest, get properly rejected, that’d be nice. It’d reduce the amount of time he spends at night thinking about Keith. But what if-

 

“What if it ruins Voltron?” Lance asks quietly, hesitantly, and there’s a sudden lull. There’s a lot of what-ifs in this situation, and Keith’s someone that Lance can’t really predict. Maybe that’s why he likes Keith so much, because he’s crazily unpredictable. Lance is constantly surprised.

 

“It won’t,” Pidge says, firm and certain, and somehow, Lance believes her. It’s a comfort, hearing that the possible fallout won’t have an impact on saving the world and defeating the Galra Empire. Lance doesn’t want this crush to hurt anyone else.

 

“Are you going to tell him?” Hunk reminds him, patting him on the head. “Tell him, Lance. Just do it!”

 

“Shut up,” Lance says, a slow smile spreading across his face. It’s nice, knowing that people have his back, no matter what he does. Pidge and Hunk have him, are ready to catch him, and they’re always there, a steady warm presence next to him. “If I get punched and I die, you need to give me a stunning eulogy.”

 

“I’ll even print ‘World’s Number One Single Man’ on your tombstone,” Pidge says, eyes glinting.

 

And Lance laughs, bright and happy, living in this quiet moment in Hunk’s room, away from Earth, away from the Galra Empire, away from Voltron. It’s just the three of them, holed up in a room, talking about stuff that matters to them.

 

Yeah, Lance is lucky as fuck to have them.

 

-=-

 

When Lance confesses to Keith, it’s an accidental thing. The whole crew’s at the table, eating and all, like a normal lunch after a morning of tough and tiring training under the lead of Shiro, and Lance asks out loud for someone to pass the space salt.

 

Keith’s sitting next to him - why, Lance has no idea, but it’s nice, it’s always nice when he’s in close proximity with Keith - and he’s the one who reaches out across the table to grab it, and as he settles in his seat, passing the salt to Lance, Lance says, “thanks, love you.”

 

And Keith, beautiful Keith with a fury to rival a thousand suns, he replies with, “love you too.”

 

It takes Lance one tick, two ticks, _three ticks_ to realise the conversation that just happened, and the whole table’s silent. Everyone has their eyes blown wide and staring at the pair of them, and Hunk is smiling like an idiot, happy for Lance no matter how terrible the execution of the confession.

 

Lance isn’t even happy with it. 0/10, poor confession, no big hurrah, would not hear again. He isn’t quite sure how Keith takes it, and when he chances a glance, Keith is as red as his jacket. With embarrassment or anger, Lance isn’t sure.

 

“I’m kinda full,” Shiro says abruptly, pushing his chair back and standing, kind eyes turned on both of them. “I’m gonna go take a walk in the foyer. Anyone want to join me?”

 

“Coran and I will join you,” Allura replies, standing as well though her green goo is nowhere near finished.

 

Coran looks up with a start from where he's peering at the two boys. “We will?” Allura looks pointedly at him and Coran coughs, hurriedly standing. “Yes Shiro, we will join you! The Princess and I! In the foyer!”

 

He glances at Lance again, brows furrowed like he’s gently worried, and Lance doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Maybe he should laugh as tears stream down his face.

 

“I’m going to work on something Hunk and I’ve been coming up with,” Pidge says, and Hunk stands, grabbing the plate of food off the table. He takes Pidge’s plate as well, and they leave first through the main door, Pidge sneaking two small thumbs up behind her back.

 

Shiro makes to leave as well, striding to the door, Allura and Coran way ahead of him, and Lance hears Keith make a choked noise.

 

“Shiro!” Keith hisses, and the guy’s finally not a statue anymore. “Shiro you can’t-”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Shiro says, smiling. “Just be honest.”

 

Be honest about _what_? Lance’s heart beats faster. _Goddammit_ , he thinks. He should wring hope by the neck and stamp on it.

 

Soon enough, it’s just them left in the room, frozen at the table, and Keith looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

 

“I meant it,” Lance says quickly, forcing the words out of his mouth. Keith opens his mouth, about to say something, but closes it immediately after Lance confesses. He opens it again, and closes it after a pause, at a loss for words.

 

He’s bright red, flushed cheeks and there’s red at the tips of his ears. Keith actually - dare Lance say it - looks flustered.

 

“I- I uh,” Keith looks away, before looking back at Lance and blinking hard, eyes darting like crazy. “I- I meant it too.”

 

Lance just, he just shuts down. His jaw drops and he stares at Keith like he’s gone stupid, and Lance is very certain that his brain has stopped working, that his heart has stopped beating. This is a dream. It definitely is. A very nice dream but it can’t be real.

 

“Say something?” Keith mumbles after Lance goes quiet for a very long while. “If you meant it then we should, talk-”

 

“Please punch me,” Lance says, 100% serious, and Keith starts, blinking. “Punch me in the face, for real. Just hit me. I need to feel pain to know this is real.”

 

And Keith - bless him, seriously, he’s so, so _literal_ \- he draws his hand back and just fucking lays one on Lance. It’s an explosion of pain and Lance swears he has a black eye. There’s no way a punch like that doesn’t result in a black eye. Lance would know, he studied aerospace and got into the garrison. Lance knows science. Science works that way: a good solid punch from Keith equals black eye. There’s nothing to it.

 

Keith stands, hovering over him worriedly as Lance falls quiet again, pressing his hand against his eye. “Are you okay?” He asks, fingers clenching around air, unsure of where to put his hands. “I can ask Hunk for something cold.” He settles for gently gripping Lance’s cheeks and tilting his head up to have a closer look at the black eye.

 

Lance waves it off. “I’m cool, it’s cool, don’t worry, it just hurts - which is good! Good, because now I’m certain this is all real, that’s very good.”

 

He looks up at Keith, one eye black and bruised, purpling at the sides and smiles, dopey and happy. “Wanna be boyfriends?”

 

Keith’s blood is probably running at really high temperatures, with the way his skin heats up and his cheeks turn red at the speed of hyperspace. His grip on Lance’s face tightens, and Lance can feel him pressing his cheeks together in indignation, making his lips puff out.

 

“You idiot,” he says softly, but his purple-gray eyes are so pretty under the artificial blue-tinged light and hoo boy, Lance is in love.

 

His crush is fucking _requited_.

 

Keith pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking hard about how to screw Lance over - and screw Lance, maybe? Lance is wriggling his eyebrows at Keith and Keith smiles lightly, trying not to laugh - and he leans forward, pressing his lips against Lance’s.

 

Lance instantly closes his eyes, the way a proper kiss should be done - like in all the rom coms, in all the alien movies they were forced to watch by Allura and Coran - and it’s nice, it’s soft, it’s sweet and quiet. Fuck, does this mean he’s the one getting saved?

 

“We should probably ask Hunk for something cold,” Keith murmurs against his lips, and Lance laughs, tilting his head up to chase Keith’s lips.

 

“Later,” he replies, and reaches up to wrap his arms around Keith’s shoulders. “They’re all doing other stuff right now. We’ve got time.”

 

-=-

 

“Keith actually punched you?!”

 

“I _told_ you he would Hunk, you have got to start believing me more.”

 

“Lance, for the last time, you _told_ me to punch you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too babe- don’t hit me! Keith! Injured person here!”

 

“I do it because I love you, and because you’re an idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review with your thoughts or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/) .


End file.
